In order to comment on a story, you must give it a rating first. This is done to keep the story thread itself nice and clean. We have some changes coming that will provide a better format for commenting, but in the meantime please rate and comment, authors love feedback!

The author has asserted the moral rights under sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright Designs and Patents Act 1988.

N.B. This story is set in England where they drive on the left, and spell the way the Queen does.

Chapter one
Debbie was feeling really excited. It was the very first time she had been out on her own in a car, having passed her test only that morning. Of course she had driven back from the test centre, but her mother had still been with her. Now she was out all on her own, with nobody to tell her what to do, where to go, or how to drive.

As she went down the hill on Lenton Street she remembered the number of times her mother, her father, and even the professional driving instructor had warned her to slow down for the curve at the bottom. Well now she could drive at the speed she wanted, which she knew was perfectly safe in spite of their nagging.

Then, suddenly she was veering across the road and the last thing she noticed was a brick wall with a warning sign on it as the car smashed into it and everything went black.

​

***

The policeman at the door said, “Mrs. Jennings?”

When she nodded he continued, “Please don’t distress yourself, but your daughter has been involved in a traffic accident. She isn’t seriously hurt but they have taken her to the Queens Medical Centre as a precaution. May we come in?”

Jennifer said, “Of course,” and stood aside to allow the policeman and woman to walk through to the lounge.

“Just a few routine questions, madam,” said the Constable, “Whose is the car, JPX 258 J?”

“How badly is she injured?” asked Jennifer, ignoring his question, “Should I go to her?”

“All in good time,” was the response, “Just answer my questions and we’ll be with your daughter as soon as we can.”

“It’s her car, we gave it to her for her eighteenth birthday.”

“When did she pass her test?” he asked.

“Just this morning. Oh God, is it badly damaged? My husband has cherished that registration number for years and will go mad if it’s now a write-off and he can’t move the plate to another vehicle.”

“I’m afraid the car caught fire and is a complete write-off. Your daughter is very lucky. The young man who dragged her out took some burns to his hands when he went back to check that there was no one else in the car. He’s also at the QMC. He certainly saved her life; she was unconscious and would have burned to death when the car went up. Why did you give such a powerful car to a complete novice driver?”

“It was what she had set her heart on, and my husband is a push over where she is concerned. How badly burned are they?”

“Your daughter was saved from the immediate effects of the fire by the airbag, but the lad who saved her, saved her life if you ask me, has pretty severe burns to his hands. He will not be back at work for a good while yet.”

Jennifer had calmed down somewhat from the initial shock and reacted with a little more sense. “We will make sure he gets the best of attention, that goes without saying. After all we can afford it.”

The Constable could barely disguise his contempt for her assumption that their money could solve anything. What kind of parents give their eighteen year old a brand new car that cost well over fifty thousand pounds and is capable of being driven at a speed twice the legal limit? he wondered.

“Do you know if your daughter had driven down Lenton Street hill before?” asked the policewoman, before her colleague could express his feelings.

“Yes, quite a number of times. We always warned her to go slowly at the bottom.”

“You told her about the reverse camber?” she persisted.

“Sorry,” said Jennifer, “Reverse what?”

“The surface of the road slopes the wrong way,” the policewoman explained.

“Oh, does it? I just know I always have to go slower round that bend than most others or I end up on the wrong side of the road,” Jennifer said, dismissing the problem.

“We estimate your daughter tried to take the bend at about forty miles an hour,” put in the Constable.

***

When Jennifer arrived at the Queen’s Medical Centre she found her daughter ready to go home. Her few cuts and bruises were mended but the doctor wanted to speak to her mother.

“Just to warn you that she may well still show signs of concussion, although there are no symptoms at the moment,” he said “we’ll write to your own doctor. I assume you use Adam House Surgery?”

“Certainly not,” said Jennifer, indignantly, “All our medical needs are covered by the ludicrously named Ali Ar surgery,” naming the only non-National Health Service surgery in the village, “Now, I understand that a young man saved my daughter’s life and was injured himself. He was brought here. What is his status?”

“Oh, yes. The young hero, John Bestwick. His injuries have been treated initially and he’s up in the burns ward waiting to see the Consultant.”

“Well move him to a private room immediately, and get your best burns doctor to treat him, also immediately. We will pay.”

“Err, that won’t be cheap,” the doctor demurred.

“Put it on that,” Jennifer snapped, handing over an American Express Platinum Card.

“All of the charges?” asked the young doctor, who had never seen such a card in his life.

After Jennifer and Debbie had returned home to face the wrath of the man whose cherished number plate had been lost, only to find that Henry had already made the arrangements to transfer the number to his current car, a Rolls-Royce.

Once Jennifer had fussed over her daughter and put her to bed, she set out for the QMC again to see what she needed to do for the ‘young hero’ as the doctor had described him. Her enquiries were met with a firm refusal to let her see him as she was not a relative. Only when she pointed out that her credit card was paying for all his treatment were the staff, reluctantly, willing to ask the patient and the doctor if she could visit him.

Once the petty officialdom had been satisfied as to her bona fides was she allowed into his room.

He looked almost normal and quite bright and wide awake. The only obvious damage was hidden by both hands being swathed in bandages to the elbow, so that no fingers or thumbs were visible.

“I am so grateful to you,” Jennifer said, “They tell me you saved my daughter’s life. I can assure you that I will do everything I can to ensure that you have the best of treatment and are provided with anything you want.”

“Is you the mother of the silly cow what was going far too fast?” he asked.

“Yes,” she confirmed, “that sounds like her. She only passed her test this morning.”

“Is you payin for all this, and a private doctor?”

“Yes. For the young man who saved my daughter’s life, anything I can provide, I will.”

John thought about that for a moment, then remembered that the doctor had said that he would get just as good, in fact the same, medical treatment through the National Health Service as through the privately paid for arrangement, except that he would be in a ward of four beds unless there was a compelling medical reason for isolation, which his burns really did not justify.

“Well, if I can have anythin?” he asked.

“Anything in my power to offer you,” she amended, “I can’t get the Queen to come and visit you, for example.”

“OK, then,” he paused for several moments, “Show us your tits, then.”

“What? Here and now?” asked Jennifer, but rather flattered that a young man half her age would want to see her naked breasts.

“I didn’t think you meant anythin I wanted,” he sneered.

That decided her, and Jennifer stood up, taking off her blouse to reveal a pale blue silk brassière. Then, reaching behind her, she unsnapped that and let it fall away to show her ample, and somewhat sagging breasts with the nipples erecting because of the idea she suddenly had.

John was staggered that she had let him see her half naked, though he had to admit to himself he had seen more attractive ones. If that surprised him her next few words really blew his mind.

“I see you are erect under the bedclothes. Is it injured?” she asked.

“N-no,” he stammered, “O-only my hands is burned. And a little bit on my face. No kissing.”

“Well then, from what I know of young men they are always horny. How about if I suck you off and swallow it? Will that show how grateful I am?”

“Err, err,” was all he could say.

“I’ll do it if you’ll let my husband come and watch me do it tomorrow,” she offered.

“H-husband?” was all he could manage.

“Henry wants to watch me being fucked, but you aren’t up to that with no hands to lean on,” she continued, “so I’ll just suck you today, and tomorrow. Is that OK?”

“Y-yes, I s-suppose s-so,” he managed to stammer.

“And he can watch tomorrow?”

“I s’pose, if he wants to,” he agreed, not quite believing what was happening.

Jennifer leant forwards and pulled the bedclothes back to reveal a prick which she thought of as on the small side. “That’s a nice prick,” she commented before taking it deep into her mouth. She flicked her tongue on the vein underneath it and then realised he was about to cum. Oh well, she thought, better luck next time Jenny, and swallowed the first spurt. Much to her surprise he continued to spurt for some time, and she swallowed it all. After all, I don’t want the nurses spotting what I’m doing.

Chapter two
Henry’s reaction to his wife’s suggestion that she was willing to suck the boy hero, John’s cock to give him some relief was met with total scorn by him. “What makes you think that you should do that?” he asked.

“Gratitude to him for saving my daughter’s life,” came the reply.

“And what makes you think I might want to watch?”

“Your fascination with cuckoldry sites like DarkWanderer on the computer,” she said, “and don’t try to deny it. Your password is ridiculously simple to guess; it’s JPX258J. Incidentally why do you think that I don’t know why that is your cherished car number plate? It was the number of the first new car you ever bought, long before you met me.”

“Yes, well,” he spluttered, “I only go on there to see what other people find interesting …”

“Rubbish,” she retorted, “You think you would like to see me fucked by someone else, don’t you?”

“Well …well I might.”

“So tomorrow we can find out if you can take even the first step towards that by watching me enjoy this young man’s cock spurting into my mouth. I don’t think you will be able to watch even that.”

“Oh, I can watch that, I’m sure. I don’t know about when I’m not there; I don’t think I’d like that, just hearing about it. I do fancy seeing you fucked by someone else, but I doubt I’d like to watch you gang banged either,” he offered, “But I’ll come with you tomorrow.”

“Well I have some rules too,” she said, “if, and it’s a big if, I ever let someone else fuck me for your amusement, it won’t be with a prick the size of the ones in your picture store. I’ve no intention of being stretched like that, nor of having my bottom used.”

***

The following day they set out to the hospital and Henry asked, “Anyway, what makes you think he will want you to suck him?”

“Oh, I know he will. I flashed my tits at his request and then sucked him off yesterday and said I would again today if he would let you watch.”

Silence was the only response she got to this confession, but she noticed that Henry’s trousers were tented at the front.

In John’s private room at the hospital, she introduced Henry and asked, “Is yesterday’s agreement OK?”

John nodded and looked apprehensively at Henry.

Jennifer cheerily told him, “My husband knows what he’s here to watch and he is looking forward to it.” She threw back the bed covers and took hold of John’s nearly fully erect cock, licking the head with exaggerated moans as she did so.

Henry suddenly sat heavily down in a handy chair and stared fascinated as the young penis disappeared into his wife’s mouth. He could imagine John’s feelings as she savoured his cock as she had so often done for her husband.

It didn’t take long for John to fill her mouth with his semen despite not being used to performing for an audience.

Jennifer first showed a mouthful of cum to her husband and then swallowed it all. She didn’t mention it, but both she and John noticed the wet spot on Henry’s trousers spreading as he got up to leave.

“I’ll see you at home,” she said, “I think there will be more work for me here pretty soon,” and so it proved after Henry had left.

After his second orgasm John said, “You know it’s only my hands I can’t use.”

“I know, but what are you trying to tell me?” she wondered.

“Well my tongue is in decent working order and your tits looked …” his voice tailed off.

“Of course,” she said and lifted her sweater to reveal only a sports brassière which also lifted up above the targets he had in mind.

As he sucked on her large nipples she murmured, “That really turns me on. When will you be able to use your hands?”

“The doctor says a couple of weeks until I can lift things, but longer before I get full use of them. Even then I may need skin grafts. But I’ll be out of hospital as soon as I can dress myself.”

“Well, when you are out of here we can play at my house and there will be nobody liable to interrupt. By then you should be used to performing in front of an audience of one, and we may well return the compliment.”

***

When Jennifer reached home some three hours later her husband said, “I stipulated only when I was watching.”

“Pooh,” his wife relied, “And how many spare pairs of trousers had you brought with you?”

“What happened after I left?” Henry demanded to know.

“More of the same, and I had my tits sucked,” she responded, “He came three more times, but the last one was quite small.”

Chapter three
Debbie decided that it was time she visited her life-saver and so, without telling either of her parents she went to the hospital. She was surprised that nobody asked who she was or why she wanted to visit him. Even John wondered who she was, though he guessed it was probably the girl he had dragged out of the crashed car.

“John,” said Debbie, “I wanted to thank you for saving my life. If there’s anything you need, just say and I’ll try to get it for you. Fruit, chocolate, anything.”

“Anythin, you mean anythin you can buy?”

“Well, yes, I suppose so,” she answered, somewhat puzzled.

“There is one thing you can do for me,” he said, deciding that if the mother sucked him perhaps the daughter would at least wank him, “you could give me a hand job.”

“A hand job? You mean …?” she waved at the bedcovers in the right place.

John laughed at the look on her face, “No chance, I suppose.”

Debbie thought, Why not? He can’t grab me with his hands bandaged up like that. He did save my life. Aloud she said, “I can do better than that. I’ll give you a blow job, that’s what they are called isn’t it, when I take your … thing … in my mouth?”

“Yeah, that would be great,” was the response.

Quickly, before she lost her nerve she bent over him and started to suck the rigid prick she found sticking up under the covers.

John soon realised that Debbie had had little experience at cock sucking, but was content to let her do what she knew. “You ain’t done much of this have you?” he asked her.

Glad of a chance to let him slip out and to breathe, she answered, “Truthfully, I have only done it once, and my boyfriend said I was no good at it. You’ll have to tall me what to do,” and with that she bent to her task again.

John instructed her, “First, breathe through your nose while you are suckin. Then sort of move up and down him with your lips. Keep your teeth well away from him. Sort of stroke him with your tongue while he’s in your mouth. I’ll tell you when I’m cummin and you have to swallow it, cos we don’t want the nurse finding a big puddle, do we?”

Debbie did her best, and John could feel that she would receive a large present in her mouth very soon when suddenly the door to the private room opened.

“What do you think you are doing?” asked the nurse as she saw the tableau of a very expensively dressed girl bending over the patient clearly giving him a blow job.

Debbie was much less shocked than the nurse and answered, “I was just thanking him for saving my life. I hope that gratitude is permitted in this hospital.”

“Patient care is my job, all patient care, and I will see to all his needs,” snapped the nurse, making it clear that she included blow jobs in the needs.

“And when he has his hands useable? Will you be as … kind … to him when he leaves hospital?” said Debbie as she stood up.

“He’s rich isn’t he? No reason why I wouldn’t.”

“No he isn’t. It’s my mum whose paying for all this care, including your special attention.”

The nurse looked surprised, “I thought he must be …”

“And you wanted to catch a rich husband, didn’t you. Well he isn’t one.”

“In that case you can have him, and welcome,” said the nurse, storming out of the private room.

Returning to the now very dejected looking prick, Debbie said, “Now. Where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?” She knelt beside the bed and offered, “I’ll still swallow it, though we don’t care what the nurse sees, do we?”

An hour later, after John had had two very pleasant orgasms, and Debbie had decided she liked the taste of semen, she asked him, “Are you expecting my mum this afternoon?”

“Yes, about four she said.”

“It’s half past three. I had better make myself scarce, and don’t tell her what I did, she would do her nut if she thought I even knew what sex is for, let alone how to do any of it.”

John had no intention of telling either mother or daughter what the other did for him, but he would miss his morning blow job from the nurse.